


Fueling the Human Weapon

by kristen999



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Discussions of Food, Introspection, M/M, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 12:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/pseuds/kristen999
Summary: It’s taken Steve most of life to learn the difference between need and enjoyment when it comes to food.





	Fueling the Human Weapon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of some meta discussion on tumblr and a bit different style for me. Thanks to aries_taurus for leading it!  
> Thank you to my beta Gaelicspirit for all of her suggestions. :)

***

Growing up in Hawaii on a cop and teacher’s salary isn’t exactly rough, but Steve’s family lives by modest standards and watch what they spend. Since everything has to be imported, food is expensive, so they try growing some things. 

Hawaii is full of the pesky parasites within the roots. Vegetables are susceptible to root-knot nematodes; cucumbers, peppers, string beans, eggplant, strawberries, and tomatoes start-off strong, only to die and whither. 

The pineapple growers use poisonous chemicals to rid their fields of nematodes, poisoning the ground water on all the islands as a result. Getting rid of the nematodes in the soil is difficult if not impossible, taking a lot of family effort. Squash, beans, and cucumbers all get rust, so his Dad spends years figuring out a solution. Baking soda is a good fungicide with dormant oil, and it is both cheap and non-toxic. 

Sweet potatoes, green onions, and okra all seem to do well. Although Steve wishes that just one tomato plant would survive a single summer. 

Steve spends his childhood eating fresh veggies at the dinner table and learning about things like soil and nature, planting virtual seeds for his love of the outdoors. Being out in the sun, helping Dad till the ground, getting his hands dirty. 

When Mom dies, so does Dad’s spirit. Long hours in the backyard during the weekends, or working out frustrations by weeding, tending to the soil, watering, turn instead into a preference for drinking when he gets home. The veggies shrivel away without the care.

Dinner is either nuked in the microwave or selected from a take-out menu. Steve goes to the farmer’s market on Sundays, but it’s not the same without Mom. Meals become quick things Steve can make and vegetables come out of cans than from the ground.

Mary pitches in to help, peeling carrots, dicing onions, packing her own lunch in the morning. On most nights though, it’s Steve responsibility to ensure all three of them have dinner. 

 

***

Steve enters the Naval Academy and meals are based on the Navy’s nutrition standards. Fifty-five to sixty percent carbohydrates, twenty to thirty percent fat, and fifteen to twenty percent proteins. 3,500 calories a day.

Being a chef for Annapolis is prestigious so the food is actually pretty good. Spicy chicken, salads, soup, potatoes. On Fridays, they’re even allowed pizza—as long as it’s approved by the dietitian. This is the Academy, the elite of the elite. Food is a reward after hours of studying and work-outs. 

This isn't boot camp, not yet.

***

Steve is stationed on his first aircraft carrier and the mess is run like a precision op; feeding five thousand people takes planning. 

Four meals a day: breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midrats, or snacks after midnight. Sometimes he can smell sweet rolls below deck, but by the time Steve reaches the mess, they’re usually gone. 

The cooks boil all of the food. Everything including the meat comes in bags. The food is pretty poor and some of his fellow sailors stock up on cans of Chef Boyardee and eat it cold. When you’re hungry you’ll eat anything. Steve always works up a hefty appetite and powers through crackers like crazy.

Despite the quality, Steve’s favorite meal is breakfast, morning fuel to get him through the upcoming day.

He stands in a long winding line through the ship, and up, and down ladders, and around the corner. There is a large board with the meal menu on it just to get everyone hungry. He’s starving by the time he gets his tray, his heart thrumming with adrenaline. 

It’s interesting to watch the cook break four eggs at a time and fill the entire grill in minutes. When it’s his turn, Steve sticks his tray out toward the server to signal he wants something, and the cook piles on the eggs. He eats so many damn eggs.

During Hell Week, Steve dreams of them. 

***

Most sailors drop out during Hell Week.

Five days with 200 mile runs and physical training for more than 20 hours per day. Hell Week defines them, defines their commitment and dedication to become a SEAL. 

Steve remains in constant motion: constantly cold, hungry, and wet. Mud covers every inch of his uniform, and is all over his hands and face. Sand burns his eyes and chafes his skin raw. Medical personnel are on standby for emergencies only. 

There are open sores along his inner thigh now from being constantly soaked. Every time he moves, the wet camouflage rakes over the wounds, sending pain through his body. 

But he won’t ring that bell, no matter how much the Master Chief yells at him to.

He would do anything for sleep. He can’t remember what day it is, or the last time he was horizontal in his rack. Sleep is fleeting: a mere three to four hours that will be granted near the conclusion of the week. 

If he can’t sleep, Steve eats every calorie he can get. Butter in his coffee, double and triple portions, eating as fast as he can, with as many high-calories food he can get shoveled onto his tray. 

It’s all about eating complex carbs: bread, crackers, cereal, beans, peas, starchy vegetables. Fruits are also loaded with them. He eats all he can get his hands on, more than four servings of each food group daily.

Steve consumes up to 7,000 calories a day and it's still not enough. It’s all about self-preservation, all about survival.

***

After Hell Week, Steve learns everything it takes to keep his body a lean, mean, fighting-machine. 

He’s a SEAL, a member of Naval Special Operations. He needs to be in peak physical shape to complete difficult missions. Proper nutrition is essential to high-level performance.

His diet is all about high carbohydrates and protein to fuel his intense activities and to maintain and rebuild his muscle tissue. 

Replenishing energy and fluid loss is key when he’s constantly in the ocean. Swimming and diving increases his calorie intake and is exacerbated when he operates in cold water. He has to jack-up his metabolism, although he doesn’t participate in blood-packing like some of the other team-guys. 

Steve consumes tons of pasta, rice, and fruit between missions and does things like carbohydrate loading prior to a scheduled dive. He re-reads the nutritional manuals, studies the charts, then consults the Navy doc about which supplements might help. 

Carbohydrate loading requires 1,500 extra calories for three days prior to the prolonged dive. And fluids—so much freaking fluids—to maintain blood sugar levels and hydration. 

In hot conditions, Steve avoids fatty foods and excessive protein, which decrease heat tolerance. He also drinks so many fluids with sodium and potassium that everything tastes like salt.

High altitude jumps can result in loss of muscle mass, so Steve needs to consume 3,500 to 6,000 calories per day. He eats small, frequent high carbohydrate meals, like turkey sandwiches with orange juice or chocolate milk. 

***

Steve misses chocolate milk when he conducts operations in the field in places he can’t talk about, under desert skies and tree canopies, hundreds of miles away from the nearest population. 

During missions, Steve uses only what he can physically carry. Everything has to fit in his pack.

He strips his MREs down to take out all the useless packaging, utensils and accessories including the chemical heater. He doesn’t need a heater on a mission.

SEALs have special Meals Ready to Eat that are lighter in weight, pack in more nutrition dense rations with high glycemic index. His team carries them when they anticipate the mission will involve a high-level of conflict. The packs are specially tailored for high-stress situations, designed to replace the nutrients that adrenaline consumes during periods of intense stress.

But no matter how much money is spent on nutrition-dense food, Steve still drops below his desired-optimized weight in the field. MREs are boring and he eats less as the days drag into weeks, but he stills consumes the proper amount to keep fit. He’ll balance out the meals with nutritional bars, and the amount of water he drinks every day is enough to keep his belly full. 

When he’s not downing water, he drinks nutrition replacement beverages, and diluted juice. Anything to replace glucose levels and keep him hydrated; keep his mind sharp and his energy levels high.

***

Steve reruns to Hawaii and it’s hard to break ingrained habits. He tries to maintain healthy levels of everything. Fruit, vegetables, protein, plenty of water. He’s tempted by the sweets and isn’t even sure his stomach knows how to digest fast food. 

But his new partner enjoys sweets for breakfast and it kind of wears on him.

“You’re not in the middle of the jungle or in a foxhole anymore,” Danny says, waving a cookie in front of Steve’s face. “Come on, McGarrett, enjoy life every once in a while.”

“I can’t mess with the energy tank,” Steve says. 

“Excuse me? Remember our conversations regarding the difference between a human and a machine?” Danny points a finger at Steve’s chest. “You’re the human.”

Steve blinks owlishly at him, realization slow to dawn. “I know that.”

“Do you?” But this time, Danny’s voice is softer.

But for the last ten years it’s been automatic to calculate all his planned activities, figure out the amount of energy expended and replace it with the proper calories. He has the formula memorized. 

Steve snags the cookie out of Danny’s hand and eats it in two bites just to shut him up. 

Danny gives him a smug smile and Steve pretends he didn’t enjoy it.

***

Steve stills buys nutritional bars, lean meat, and protein powder. He maintains a rigorous work-out routine in the morning and increases it on the weekends. 

Swimming and running is ingrained into his muscle memory, it feels weird not to exercise, to push his body to the extremes, and sharpen his mind at night by reading. His brain still considers it training, but Steve knows it’s not in preparation for a mission. There isn’t a plan to follow with a specific goal in mind.

He still drinks a gallon of water every day.

***

Weeks turn into months and very slowly, Steve adjusts his diet yet again to occasional tacos, pizza, and even a juicy burger. He still eats salads, and drinks protein shakes and smoothies, but over time, Steve even grabs the occasional item from the vending machine without a voice in his head telling him not to.  
. 

***

His reserve drill is every month and Steve continues training to keep in SEAL shape. As he creeps up on his one year anniversary of returning to the island, he knows his chances of being reactivated are growing slimmer, especially with the success of the taskforce. 

He adjusts what he eats the three days leading up his drills: omelets, chicken, and plenty of raw greens. 

Every once in a while it feels like a lot of effort.

***

“Do you know how to cook anything that isn’t on the grill?”

Steve flips the steak, checking to see if it has a nice sear, ignoring the way Danny mocks his skills. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, grilling is great during the Fourth of July, but I don’t think it’s considered very healthy.”

“I don’t grill every day.”

“Yeah? So, when’s the last meal you’ve cooked from scratch?”

The flames flicker and the meat and grease pops, and Steve stares at his metal spatula unsure how to answer the question. How does one explain to man who loves second helpings of lasagna and fried chicken that food was a calculation for fuel? That it meant surviving?

“I used to cook for my Dad, Mary, and me,” Steve admits, clearing his throat. “If I didn’t cook…” He shrugs, not looking Danny in the eye. “And after I entered the Navy…”

Danny shakes his head. “Someone else cooked all the time for you.” 

Steve huffs out a forced laugh. “I got to say, I sometimes miss going to the mess and just picking up my tray and having the boys pile it with steak and eggs.”

“No wonder you have a palate of a cave man.” 

“That’s Commander Cave Man to you,” Steve jokes and flips over the steak.

*** 

Steve runs around his office gathering the files he needs to take home when Danny knocks on his door and enters without waiting for Steve to give him permission. Governor Denning has been in office for six months and he wants a complete sit-rep regarding Five-0’s team evaluations. 

“I’m late for a meeting,” Steve mumbles searching for his lap top case.

“Yeah, yeah, but I wanted to give you this.”

Steve notices the pamphlet in Danny’s hand and takes it with a raised eyebrow. “What is it?”

“A ticket to your continued re-education for being a civilized human being.”

Steve stares at the gift in confusion. “This is for a three month cooking class.”

“Yeah, I thought you and I could take it together.”

“How many times have you’ve said you’re an amazing chef?”

“Many. And it’s true every time, but like a certain someone, we all have to keep our skills sharp, yeah?”

Steve stares at the brochure in disbelief and slight indignation, but mostly he’s kind of touched. “I don’t know what to say?”

“It’s easy; say thanks.”

“Thank you.”

Danny squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “You’re welcome. Besides, I wouldn’t be a good partner if I allowed you to can to call those protein bars in your pocket _food._ Maybe you can even learn to cook a real lunch to take to work.”

***

Steve is an expert on the mechanics of cooking. He can follow a recipe, interpret and understand measurements, and use kitchen equipment. But at the start of the first class, the instructor says something that strikes him unexpectedly.

“At its core, cooking is the process of taking a series of ingredients, combining them, and using energy to produce a result. But what makes food good, what makes it delicious, is _passion._ Experimentation. Cooking is more than science; it’s the love of food.”

Steve stares at the cutting board and the beautiful bounty of fresh food and he actually doesn’t know what he’s doing here.

He searches for the nearest exit when he feels a hand on his arm and looks over at Danny who gives him the kindness expression. 

“It’s okay, Babe.”

But it isn’t, it’s far from it. “Danny…”

“Look, I know communication is not your strongest skill set, but I do wear a badge that says Detective on it.” Danny squeezes Steve’s bicep, his tone kind and not condescending. “And I know the military taught you that eating was a process to get you through the next battle. But I brought you here so you could learn about the pleasure a savory pork chop, or why a good red wine goes with roast lamb.”

Steve’s heart hammers inside his chest, embarrassment blushing his cheeks.

“You can do this, Steve. I think you’ll even learn to really like it.”

***

The night Steve successful creates a Béarnaise sauce to go with some fresh Pacific Cod; he calls Danny to invite him over for dinner. 

Danny actually smacks his lips as he eats, the sound making Steve beam with pride. 

***

The more time he spends with Danny, and with Grace and Charlie, Steve begins to enjoy candy bars and popsicles and a lot of ice cream on the weekends.

In fact, his favorite thing in the world is to bask under a palm tree, indulging in an ice-cream float Grace made for him, some of it dripping over his shirt. Charlie laughs and Danny shakes his head, but Steve eats the whole thing, not once thinking about calorie intake of the nutritional content. 

***

The Friday after a grueling case, Steve drives him and Danny around in search of a good bar. 

“You do know that Red Siren has the best coconut shrimp tacos,” Danny says as he fiddles with his phone. “It’s like two miles away.”

“They use too much garlic.”

“I beg to differ.”

“You may beg to differ all you want, but I’m right.”

“Since when?”

“Since the last time we ate there.” Steve takes the next turn, ignoring Danny’s eye roll. “We’re going to Grubs. I want their home made sausage rolls.”

“Oh my God, no. Grace could make a better puff pastry.”

All Steve can do is grin, because the puff pastry can be a little dry, but he’s okay with that. He’s okay with arguing over the taste and texture of food with Danny. Steve is perfectly fine with caring about such things.

***

 

It’s one in the morning and Steve discuses various recipes for their restaurant, debating which dish should be fourth on the menu. He personally wants Chicken Parmesan, there’s nothing like deep-fired cutlets dipped in egg and coated in breadcrumbs. 

His stomach growls and Danny chuckles, handing him an apple and Steve takes it, debating which olive oil they should use in the recipe. Wondering if it’ll be as succulent as it sounds, knowing they’ll test it in the afternoon to see if it’ll make the cut.

When Danny turns his head to look down at the menu, Steve wraps his arms around Danny’s shoulders and kisses the back of his neck. “Thank you.”

“Thank me for what?” Danny asks, leaning into him.”For probably going bankrupt together?”

Hugging Danny closer toward him, Steve takes in the sawdust on the floor, of the half-finished menus, and bar stools of _their_ restaurant, and sighs. Happy and content. “Just thanks.”

 

***

Fini-

Title is taken from Chapter 3 of _The Special Operations Forces Nutrition Guide_.


End file.
